


Silence

by maraudersgirl47



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Kinda Fluffy, M/M, No Spoilers, Oneshot, Season 9
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-04
Updated: 2013-10-04
Packaged: 2017-12-28 09:04:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/990213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maraudersgirl47/pseuds/maraudersgirl47
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn’t the tedious tasks that were the hardest. It wasn’t the sleeping, or the eating, the very necessary bathroom breaks. It wasn’t even the new sensations of the physical pain.<br/>It was quite simply, the never ending silence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silence

It wasn’t the tedious tasks that were the hardest. It wasn’t the sleeping, or the eating, the very necessary bathroom breaks. It wasn’t even the new sensations of the physical pain.

It was quite simply, the never ending silence.

Castiel’s mind had never, in all of his creation, been filled with so little.

For millennia his brothers and sisters words had flown freely through his mind. Their united communication system utterly natural to his consciousness. It was something that he had never been taught, it was just simply always _there_.

It hadn’t been until a few years ago, when he had experienced his first dabble with humanity, that the connection had begun to waver and he lost the sound of that familiar hum.  
Even some time after that, the connection firmly back in place, he elected himself to turn it off. But even in that case he had never experienced a silence such as _this._

There had always been one sound that had remained, strong and vibrant. Onevoice that had never faltered, even in his darkest hours.

_Dean’s_ voice.

Dean’s raw deep tone had soared to Cas’ mind ever since he raised the Winchester from Hell. Whether Dean was deliberately praying to him, or when Dean had required assistance, or if Dean was merely thinking of him in general; that connection would open and Cas would revel in the fact that _he_ was the one Dean was turning to.

Never, not since perdition, had Cas lost the ability to hear Dean inside his mind. And now that he had, he possessed no way of knowing how to deal with it.

At first Cas had panicked. The initial cut off from Dean’s soul had sent a horror through Cas that he would never forget. He couldn’t feel Dean’s existence; therefore Dean had to be dead.

Of course, it didn’t take Cas all that long to realize that jumping to ludicrous conclusions was one of the many faults to humanity that he would have to acclimatize himself to.  
Of course Dean wasn’t harmed in any way. It was Cas who had been affected. Now, graceless, his link to Dean was broken.

Finding his way back to Dean had become a harder endeavor than it had ever been. Where before there had been direction, a call, _need_. There was nothing but the silence.

When he finally managed it, after days, weeks, he didn’t know any more, he was filled with a bliss that he thought had been forever lost to him. The sight of Dean in front of him once more was indescribable. Between the fall from Heaven and now he had only received glimpses of a chance that Dean was okay; he couldn’t _feel_ that Dean was all right. But here, here was the inescapable proof.

Cas was wrapped up in the strength of Dean’s arms before his sigh of relief had even left his body. Dean held him tight, Cas clinging back with all his remaining vigor. As Cas breathed in the scent that was so uniquely _Dean_ , savoring the feel of the man once again within his grasp; the fallen angel would have been more than content if Dean never wanted to release him again.

Cas felt awkward the first time he went to confront Dean about his predicament. He underwent such nerves that he backed out of his idea even before any words left his lips.

The second time was met with even less success. Cas preferring to ask Dean for help with the dryer instead. And since he _did_ need help with the dryer anyway Cas figured that wasn’t exactly a failure.

The few times after that when Cas managed to concoct enough courage to convince himself that telling Dean how he missed the constant sound of his prayers was a _good_ idea never ended in the way that he planned.

In the end, much to Cas’ surprise, it was Dean that confronted _him._

Cas had been truly naive to think that Dean wouldn’t notice that something was bothering him, as Dean made sure to point out. It was only then that Cas admitted, through much stuttering, that it was the silence created from the void of Dean’s tone that was the problem.

When Dean didn’t respond to him immediately, leaving Cas once again alone, Cas figured Dean had been mad at his blatant need for the other.

Cas had resolutely decided to never mention it again (it was _his_ problem and he would just have to deal with it), when Dean stunned him yet again.

Whenever they were alone, Dean began to talk to him, constantly.

There was no rhyme or reason to his words, they would merely flow. He would speak about cases, or the weather. He would ramble about food and television. He sometimes turned to words of the past, good times or bad. He spoke about Sam and Bobby, his mother, his father, everyone who he had ever met. Hell, Purgatory, Heaven. Anything. _Everything._

Cas couldn’t express his gratitude towards him, he didn’t know how.  
But Cas became sure that he didn’t need to; Dean already understood.

It wasn’t the same as before, this was entirely different, and Cas figured maybe _this_ was something more.

It was Dean’s obvious trust in him. His apparent faith and loyalty that he held for Cas even after everything. It was deliberate now. Dean having to verbally speak the words. This was Dean not denying anything. It was more than Cas would have ever hoped for. It was perfect.

Even when they began to become more inseparable; Cas going with Dean on hunts while Sam would remain to do research, to study. Dean teaching Cas everything him and Sam knew about ‘being human’. Even when Dean started dragging Cas to his room after a long day, the two of them falling tangled together on Dean’s bed. Dean would _always_ talk to him.

It became instinctual. Dean would simply let his tongue flow uninhibited whenever it was just the two of them. He spoke of things before he thought them through, not caring where the tangents led him. It didn’t matter, he was with one of the two people he trusted most. He spoke about darkness and even the things he’d promised to lock away in the crevices of his own mind forever.

Cas eventually had to tell Dean to shut up a few times, only a few, when he was pointedly trying to tangle Dean’s tongue with his own. It would always cause Dean to chuckle, before he locked them together more firmly.

Some nights Dean’s words wouldn’t consist of much. They’d be strung down to the basics. _More. There. Harder. Faster. Cas._ His voice would break and his breathing would turn into panting; but it was still wonder to Cas’ ears.

It was a Sunday night, he and Dean tangled together in the sheets of Dean’s bed once more, that Cas realized maybe it had become _his_ bed too _._

It wasn’t what Cas had originally grown to adore. This was something different. This was something better. It didn’t matter how their bond remained, Cas knew now that it would never fade, there was nothing in the universe that could break what they had.

There were still silences of course, it was literally humanely impossible to live without silence. But he could still hear Dean. Hear his thoughts, his memories, his desires.

He could hear Dean when it mattered most, and that was all he craved.


End file.
